Toulouse and Royal
by Orion Kohaishu
Summary: -HIATUS- They say, down in New Orleans, that all of life converges on the corner of Toulouse and Royal. While no evidence has been found to substantiate this claim, I know that my life, for one, has been built around that street corner. AU ROMY
1. Toulouse and Royal

--Toulouse and Royal--

Okies, here's the quick teaser of my new up-and-coming fic. Hope y'all enjoy! Drop me a line and let me know, and the real story will be here soon!

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

They say, down in New Orleans, that all of life converges on the corner of Toulouse and Royal. While no evidence has been found to substantiate this claim, I know that my life, for one, has been built around that street corner.

The first time I ever saw those names, I was thirteen years old and way out of my league. New Orleans has a pulse and a heartbeat all its own -- the city itself is _alive_ -- and my naïve adolescent mind was all too easily caught up in the maelstrom. I learned much of life from that city. I remember tasting my first whiskey, losing my first five dollars in my first poker game, and first learning to see the city as the living, breathing creature it truly was. The city breathed a spicy, smoky, sultry atmosphere, and everyone within it seemed to absorb a bit of that same enticing mystery.

I don't know how I managed to find my way into the heart of the French Quarter, much less how I managed to find my way into the heart of the French Quarter without the stern, watchful presence of my Aunt Irene. But there I was that day; a young, sheltered Catholic girl who had never been out of her hometown in Mississippi before being thrown headlong into the color and jive of the Big Easy. I, who had been singing in my church choir since age six, tossed alone and unchaparoned into the city whose pulse carried the beat of jazz. It was so different from anything that I had ever known that I couldn't help but fall in love with the fantasy. That's the only word I could find to describe New Orleans; fantasy. It was too crazy and perfect to be anything but a dream, and seems to exist outside of time and limitation.

I fell head over heels in love with its bright colored, horn blaring, Gone With the Wind, hot pepper aura. They say you never forget your first love. My first love was a city, and she is forever in my heart.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-


	2. Laissez Les Bon Temps Rouler

Toulouse and Royal

Chapter One

"Laissez Les Bon Temps Rouler"

Marie was, by most standards, a good girl: she attended church every Sunday and Wednesday, was polite and obedient, and always read a passage of the Bible before bed each night. Her early years were unfortunate; she was born in the sinful North -- with its liberalism and blasphemous ideas -- to an aspiring actress who lived only long enough after birthing to grace the name of Marie over the child's auburn crown. Despite all that, however, her aunt and uncle had raised her to be a good Southern girl. She studied hard and maintained her grades, ignoring the allures that often tempted those of her age. She spent her afternoons in her uncle's cafe, helping to bus tables and clean up before the evening shift came. Every Saturday she rode her bike down to the retirement facility to pass time listening to the stories her elders eagerly passed down. At merely thirteen, she was already one of the more respected members of her small community.

New Orleans, however, has a way of bringing out unknown facets of one's personality. Here was Marie -- shy, mature Marie -- seated comfortably at a booth in a smoky bar, her hair down to frame her small face in soft waves. She reached forward to tentatively grasp the glass before, staring dubiously at the amber-colored liquid that swirled at the bottom. "And this is what, exactly?" Sniffing it, her nose wrinkled at the strength of the liquor.

The man across from her, a lanky, roguish-looking man with a smile that reached all the way to his eyes, guffawed deep in his chest at her expression. "C'mon Darlin'. Would I lead you astray?" Adrian Saunier, as he had introduced himself to her earlier when he found her lost and stunned on the street corner, was a college professor and part-time street performer, playing the guitar in local jazz clubs when not perched on his spot at the intersection of Toulouse and Royal. The corner, as he had explained to her, had been his favorite place for the last 30-odd years, since he had been about her age. He had taken her to a nearby bar he knew the owner of, Yo Mama's over on St. Peter's, and ordered each of them a whiskey and the one-pound burgers Yo Mama's was famous for. "It's a little taste of the Big Easy."

Skeptical, but easily trusting the man who had taken her under his wing, Marie sipped the beverage. The second the liquid touched her tongue, she felt as though pure fire was racing down her throat. Coughing and spluttering, she glared and Logan through tear-streaked eyes. The man laughed, clapping her on the back. "There ya go, Darlin'. Welcome to the _real_ N'Awlins." He raised his glass in a toast and Marie clinked hers to it while Logan cried happily, "_Laissez les bon temps rouler_!"

-x-x-x-

Four hours later found Marie and Logan, after a brief visit to the New Orleans Voodoo Museum, seated with five others around a poker table at Cosimo's Lounge. It had taken a few hands for Marie to master the finer complexities of the game, as well as her entire month's allowance, but she was now holding her own against the grown men. "Ha!" she crowed triumphantly, laying her cards down on the table -- three of a kind in fives. She glanced at the other players, her green eyes reflecting interesting shades in the cigar-smoked air.

"Damn," one player cursed, slamming his full house facedown on the tabletop. "Ya win again, Little Lady." He nudged the five dollars he had bet towards her, and the others followed suit, regardless of their hands.

Grinning, but rolling her eyes at the obvious display of goodwill, Marie collected her "winnings." She flicked a look at the clock on the wall as she shuffled the cards, noting that her curfew was in a half an hour. "Alright Gramps," her new friend grunted at the nickname. "We got time for one more game." She was just about to deal the hand when a new voice spoke out of the dingy air.

"This a private game or can any one join?" Marie, along with Logan and the other men, turned to face the newcomer -- and Marie's jaw dropped for the first time in her crazy day. He was New Orleans personified into the body of a seventeen-year-old man; reckless, mysterious, alluring, and downright gorgeous. He was tall and lanky, his long frame accentuated by an old oversized trench coat that hung easily on his body, and unkept brown hair that only seemed to suit his carefree personality. It was only when his glinting eyes the same color as whiskey met hers with a smile that Marie realized she was staring. "Remy Lebeau. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

Marie closed her mouth and blushed, ducking her head behind a curtain of curls as she dealt an extra hand. Logan looked knowingly from Marie to the young man over his whiskey, then grinned and kicked a stool to the man. "Here ya go, Rems. Join us for a hand." Remy tossed his coat behind him like a cape as he sat, winking roguishly to Marie, who was to his immediate right.

"So, you new around here?"

Marie nodded and responded, pretending to be engrossed in her hand. "Marie D'Ancanto, pleased to meet you."

Remy leaned over to whisper against her ear, smiling as she shivered in response to his proximity. "Oh no, chere. The pleasure is _all mine_..."

-x-x-x-

Marie managed to make it back to the hotel only four minutes past her curfew of ten, and even managed to not smell like whiskey and cigars when she arrived. Her aunt berated her fiercely for disappearing in a strange city, but was unable to stay mad long. She brushed a lock of her niece's hair behind her ear, softening her tone. "Ah was worried sick."

Marie hugged her aunt fondly. "Ah'm sorry, Aunt Irene." While in her aunt's embrace, a mischievous smile unlike any that had ever previously crossed her angelic face slithered its way over her lips. She had experienced the _real_ New Orleans, and it was in her bloodstream now. As she turned out the light to sleep that night, that same smile was still plastered across her features. New Orleans was surely a disease for which there was no cure.

Not that she really minded all that much.

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Notes:

The chapter title is French for "Let the good times roll," and is the motto of New Orleans.

All of the places and locations mentioned are real

Reviewer Responses:

**Sweety8587:** Ah yes, being in love with a city... I'm glad you enjoyed, and I hope the new chapter lives up to your enjoyment as well!

**Guarded Secrets:** I'm glad you liked the teaser! There's much more coming!

**Ishy:** Yes, I know. It was much too short. I'm sorry I was so mean to you by not having it longer... can you forgive me? And I hope I satisfied the crack bunnies. They seem to haunt my nightmares.

**They-Call-Me-Orange:** So glad you liked it, and I agree. Romy is the best. For sure.

**Enchantedlight:** I'm glad this little story got off to a good start, and gladder still that you enjoyed it. Here's more!

**Chica De Los Ojos Cafe:** Glad you liked it!

**Shira's Song:** My apologies on the distance between you and your city. Glad you liked the story though!

**EE's Skysong:** So happy that you enjoyed! Here's more of the fic, and thanks for the favorite!


	3. Anything Can Happen in an Airport

Toulouse and Royal

Chapter Two

"Anything Can Happen in an Airport"

It was Marie's last day in New Orleans, much to her sorrow. She _loved_ the city, and had found the father figure she had never had with Logan. Of course, neither she nor her aunt had ever expected a weeklong visit to Louisiana to spark any lasting relationships. Tearfully, she bid a fond farewell to Logan and promised, if she ever came back, to look him up and say hello. He hugged her back, adding in his gruff voice that she should, "run away and move in to the empty room above Cosimo's, 'cause the guys wanted her to stay." She laughed at that, and smiled when he wiped away her tears, but still waved until he was out of sight.

"Well, Sugah, you enjoy our trip?" Irene looked over at her silent niece, changing lanes so that she could exit at the airport. She sighed when Marie, who was usually a very sunny and outspoken child, only stared forlornly out the window of the rental car. The ride to the airport continued in silence, and Marie didn't speak until they were approaching the gate to board the plane. Irene watched as her niece spotted a young man, unruly brown hair and odd amber eyes, seated in the terminal. The man rose and walked straight up to Marie, smiling sadly.

"You aren't staying then?"

Marie shook her head. "Sorry, Rems. Ah gotta go home."

Remy sighed unhappily, but then took Marie's hand. "Will you marry me?"

Irene raised an eyebrow, but walked away to give Marie time alone with her... friend. Marie met Remy's gaze, searching his eyes for a trace of humor, but there was none. The young man seemed completely serious with his proposition. "Remy," she was almost laughing at his question. "Ah hardly know you." In her mind, Marie knew that she should be either afraid or amused, but she was actually rather pleased. Back home, she never had time or the reputation for the opposite sex. But here was Remy, as fine a specimen as she had ever seen, actually asking for her hand. It was flattering... in a creepy way.

Remy was silent, then he smiled softly. "You know that I'm spontaneous."

Marie laughed at that -- he looked so cute with the earnest expression on his face. "Isn't this slightly illegal?"

"Not a bit," he caressed her fingers with his hand. "I'm not eighteen until next week." That said, he leaned down to slip a simple silver ring on her finger. He straightened and released her hand when the boarding call came for Marie's flight. "I'll wait for your answer as long as I need to." With a final hug, he pushed her in the direction of her aunt.

Marie's head was in a whirl when she handed the flight attendant her boarding pass, and she didn't look back until she was about to disappear down the tunnel to the plane. Then, on an impulse, she turned and called over her shoulder to Remy. "Fine!" she yelled. "But only on one condition!"

Remy looked up at her call, leaning easily against the wall and looking good enough for Marie to wish he wasn't somehow joking when he proposed. "And what is that, chere?"

"That we get to live here in New Orleans."

At that, a slow smile spread across Remy's face. "Now _that_, my dear, is a promise."

-x-x-x-

"Marie, will you to the dance with me on Friday?" Scott, the short and stocky neighbor boy who Marie had known since she was in diapers, had surprised her by meeting her at her locker after school. She had been avoiding him all week, dreading the very question he had just assaulted her with. It wasn't that she minded Scott personally, even if he was four inches shorter than he and about fifty pounds heavier. It was just that Marie minded _anyone_ who asked her on a date, and Scott had always been like a brother figure to her.

"Scottie, that's real sweet," she began slowly, racking her brain for an easy way to let him down without ruining their friendship. "But Ah can't." She stopped for a second, then laughed internally when the answer came to her. "Ah'm engaged." His face fell, obviously not believing her, and she continued, hoping to make him feel better. "Ah mean, Ah'd love to go with you. But it just wouldn't be proper now, would it?"

"How can you be engaged?" It was obvious, both from his voice and his facial expression, that Scott found her excuse to be a rather flimsy way of saying she would die sooner than go out with him. "You're only seventeen and you've never been on a date in your life."

She laughed and looped an arm through his, leading him in the direction of their houses. "Ah know. It doesn't make that much sense to me either." Scott was still silent, so she elbowed him lightly. "C'mon, Scottie, you're my best friend... How awkward would that have been?" He was smiling softly, so she continued. "Besides, why ruin what we already have?" She slipped out of his one-armed embrace and opened the gate to her yard, waving as she headed up the walk.

Scott stood on the sidewalk, then blew out a large whoosh of air in a sigh before whispering, "Because Ah love you..." No one heard his confession but himself, so he turned and headed next door to his own house.

-x-x-x-

Once inside the sanctity of her house, Marie dropped her backpack and leaned against the doorframe. "Oh Lordy..." She headed up the stairs to her bedroom and flopped onto her bed, pillowing her head on her arms so that she was eye to eye with Emerson, her cat. "What am Ah going to do about this one?" Emerson only opened one eye, then curled his tail around his nose and went back to sleep. Marie reached out a hand to scratch behind his ear, inciting a purr that made her smile. "Thank you for your advice, Emerson." She looked over at her bulletin board, covered in pictures and postcards from New Orleans. "Ah'm sure it will come in handy."

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Reviewer Responses: If you have a nickname/name you preferred to be called, lemme know. Pennames are SO formal, wouldn't you agree?

Love, Ori

**Enchantedlight:** So glad you liked it! Here's the next chapter!

**Ishy:** Don't worry, any "good" left in Marie will be taken out back and shot soon. And I didn't mean to tease with Remy and Rogue. Well, maybe I did. :-D But I fixed it! Ok, so they still only speak like... eleven lines in this chapter. But the content speaks for so much more! Heh heh, thanks so much for the review, I'm glad you like the story!

**Texasgrrl:** Wait no longer! The next chapter has arrived::Fanfare and such: Glad you like it.

**Chica De Los Ojos Cafe:** So glad you like the story, and thanks so much for the review!

**Silverbells:** Fear not! There will be much more to this story. Thanks for reading and reviewing!

**Sweety8587:** Who would _ever_ want to be cured of a Remy? I mean, honestly, the man is gorgeous -- and fictional, but who really cares? Thanks for the review!

**EE's Skysong:** Thanks for the review! It made me quite happy to hear from you again (even if your acronym confounds me... I lack 133t skiLz like that...)

**Cat2fat900:** Hey, that is so my idea of a good time right there... Thanks for reviewing!

**Shira's Song:** Logan is a wonderful role model. When I grow up, I'm going to be just like him. ;-) Just teasing, and thanks for the wonderful review!

**Kitrazzle Fayn:** I'm glad you liked Marie! Seriously, really glad. Thank you so much for the review!

**Guarded Secrets:** Chem, eh? You have my utmost sympathies. I'm glad my story made you feel better, so here's another chapter to get rid of any lingering chemistry. ;-)


	4. But It's Still A Freaking Gym

Toulouse and Royal

Chapter Three

"But It's Still A Freaking Gym"

Marie had always harbored a belief that any answer could be found through asking a cat. She had, since the time she was quite young, known that cats were far more intelligent than herself, and therefore turned to her feline compatriot whenever presented with a difficult situation. Emerson's predecessor, Thoreau --all her cats were named after well-known American authors -- had specialized in matters of the childhood mind; whether she wanted apple or grape juice, or whether she should do her spelling homework or play outside. Emerson, however, was a one-in-a-million type of cat. He was quite adept at those "between a rock and a hard place" problems that, without his advice, she would most certainly agonize over for weeks. Faced with a problem such as that, she lifted her cat to meet his gaze. "Ah need help, Emerson."

Emerson blinked calmly, looking less worried about her problem then whether or not she would put him down so he might get back to his nap. Still, with the infinite patience of a drowsy cat, he turned his ears towards her in a feline show of attention.

"Ah have two men in mah life. Don't laugh," she scolded sharply. "It's actually a problem. You see, one of them is Scott. The other is Remy... and we're kind of engaged. Or as engaged as any two kids can be who shared nothing but three sentences and a poker game. Ah know it ain't real, but it makes letting guys down easy," she smiled. "The point is, Ah need to decide. Should Ah play along with a joke made five years ago, or move on."

Emerson weighed the options very carefully in his mind before leaping out of her arms onto her bedside table. From there, he sauntered in the general direction of her bulletin board. To the outside observer, her board may have looked like a shrine to the French Quarter. To her, however, it was a tribute to the memory of her friends and the fiery city that held her heart. She had not been there nor had any contact with anyone there since she had left at the age of thirteen -- five painful years ago. She had not received one letter, one phone call, or even an acknowledgment that she did, in fact, have friends in her neighboring state. She had hoped that they would have at least sent her word that they were still alive.

She sighed, noting the obvious lack of contact from New Orleans. "Thanks, Emerson. Ah understand." She should never have expected this much from Logan or Remy. After all, she had only known them for a week. "Ah guess Ah have a phone call to make."

-x-x-x-

Every year, a week before graduation, Caldecott County High School had its annual Senior Formal Ball. The Ball was a big event in the small county, as underclassmen and parents alike united in the timeless effort of attempting the transform the school gym into anything but what it actually was -- a school gym. Lights were hung from the ceiling and streamers wrapped around the basketball hoops, but not even the best decorator could hope to change a high school gym into anything else. Still, when the industrial lights shut down with their usual clicking whirr and the drapes of white fairy lights were the only luminance, it was easy to pretend that the dance was, in fact, being held in some magical fantasy world. Scott gaped openly at the thus magical transformation of the school gym as he led Marie inside and even Marie, to her credit, could hardly contain her awe.

Soft gauze hung from the ceiling hid the walls from view, giving the entire room a strange, ethereal quality. Carpets covered the scuffed, fiberglass floor in three inches of lush, springy perfection that almost made the two gasp aloud when they removed their shoes to feel it with their bare feet. A real dance floor had been brought in, which was already near to being filled by giddy seniors a week from freedom, and an actual DJ had set up his station near the far side. A snack bar was in the near corner, and grand tables fit for a four-star restaurant ranged around the perimeter of the room. It was obvious that the community had outdone themselves on the decorations this year. "How beautiful," Marie was barely able to whisper.

Scott had been thinking the exact same thing, but not about the school gym's miraculous change. His gaze was fixed, however subtly, on his friend and date. Her complete one hundred and eighty degree turn on his invitation to the dance had surprised him, but he was pleased nonetheless. _Ah guess the tux Ah rented won't go to waste after all._ Marie had also risen to the occasion, casting aside her usual clothes for a gorgeous gold strapless gown, complete with a second skirt of the finest black gauze embroidered with butterflies at the hem. Her long neck was accentuated by a black chandelier necklace and the fact that her hair was up, revealing to the world the milky white smoothness that usually cowered behind thick auburn curls. She grinned at him, sending his heart into near fatal palpitations, before lightly taking his hand and leading him onto the dance floor.

Somehow, Scott was able to avoid stepping on her feet as he clumsily followed her graceful lead. "Scottie," she finally asked. "You ok? You seem really pale."

He smiled shyly. "Ah'm alright... You look perfect tonight, by the way." She shrugged, causing ripples of light to play seductively over her pale skin, and then smiled.

"That's real sweet, Scott. You look good tonight, too." Seemingly embarrassed, she cast her eyes downwards to the floor as a soft rose colored her cheeks. Scott sucked in his breath as the simple gesture made her radiate.

_My God, she has no idea how beautiful she really is..._

-x-x-x-

"We're so proud of you, Sugah." Uncle Hugh tearfully embraced his only niece, eluding a sorrowful sniffle from both Marie and her Aunt Irene. It was now official; Marie had graduated. Their little baby, now taller than her aunt by a full inch, was off to face her future in a new and unnerving place -- California. "But do you _really_ have to go all the way to Berkeley?" He gripped her tighter, hoping he could convince her to stay the sheer force of his love -- and his arms.

She laughed. "Ah know, but Cal is a great school. Ah'm going to learn so much there." That got him, just as it had when she was accepted. Both she and her uncle shared a love of learning everything they possibly could, and Hugh wanted nothing more than for the girl he loved as a daughter to attend one of the top universities in the nation.

Irene embraced her niece as well, then released her to arm's distance to smile fondly. "You're uncle and Ah were going to give this to you later but..." She handed Marie an envelope. "Happy Graduation, honey. Hope you like it." Marie opened it and, once she saw what it contained, she threw her arms around both the adults and squealed in delight. Kissing both of them on the cheek with pure joy, her mind was racing. _How did they know? This is the most perfect gift anyone could have gotten me..._ Inside the envelope was a check for three thousand dollars and a plane ticket to New Orleans, dated to leave the next day and return in two months' time.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Sorry about the delay, my darlings, but I had no access to my computer for a week. It was horrible.

Notes:

---Marie's uncle "Hugh" is not in any way a pun on Hugh Jackman, who plays Wolvie in the movies. His name came from my uncle, who rocks

---A special thanks to my own Emerson, Kit, for helping me find a title to the chapter

---As you may or may not have guessed/noticed, I am totally biased towards the University of California at Berkeley (Cal)

---As you also may or may not have guessed/noticed, I loathe school gyms

Reviewer Responses:

**Shira: **So glad you liked it! I thought it was fun (and I'm spontaneous enough to do something like that). As to why he hasn't come to get her, that's a plot point to be revealed later. And who is Lindsey? I have no idea, there's no Lindsey in my document or the story... I'll look into it, though.

**Ishy:** Happily no, I foresee no blonde swamp wench in the story at any time. Anyways, thanks so much for the review (as well as the line I used about Remy and Marie sharing nothing but three sentences and a poker game). Here's the next chapter, specially made to satisfy the crack bunnies.

**Orange:** Only a bit creepy? Gods, I would be interested to know what in your life has constituted strange men proposing in airports as only a BIT creepy. Just teasing. Thanks for the review and glad you like the story!

**Enchantedlight:** Thanks for the review!

**Kit:** I love your name. My cat/muse/advice columnist is named Kit. Anyways, I'm pleased you like the story and no, there will be no Belladonna. I don't think...

**Jade:** Glad you liked the story! I thought I mentioned it in the first chapter, but maybe I didn't. Marie was thirteen when she went to New Orleans for the first time.

**Guarded Secrets:** YAY! No more Chem! Anyways, thanks so much for the review!

**Skysong:** It all makes sense now! That's cool! I'm glad you thought the proposal was cute (and not creepy or illegal or grounds for a restraining order or anything).

**Silverbells:** Thanks for the review! I actually happen to be quite attached to my pen name as well. Most people just can't spell Kohaishu, so I tend to go by my real life nickname of Ori. Looking back on it, she should have shown Scott the ring, but I haven't decided yet whether or not she carries it around or if it lives in a drawer...

**CF:** Do I sense some Scottie animosity? Maybe? Anyways, thanks for the review, it's always a pleasure hearing from you!

**Chica De Los Ojos Café:** Heh heh, glad it took you by surprise! (If anyone had been expecting him to propose, I would check my computer for bugs, hackings, or astral projections...) Thanks for the review!

**Texasgrrl:** Thank you for loving the story! And yes, Remy is the man.

**Dixie:** Awwww, thanks so much! Glad you like it. Because, hey, the story is nothing without people who love it.

**Mercutioslove:** Thank you for the compliment, as well as the review. It was much appreciated. And yes, doesn't Scott seem like the guy who, without the extensive exercise every day, would start packing on the pounds? He always struck me as being that way.


	5. Interlude

Toulouse and Royal

Chapter Four

"Interlude"

I believe that, no matter where I am in the world, an unseen magnetism always points my heart in the direction of that iron street lamp that marks the intersection of the crossroads of my life -- Toulouse and Royal. Like a compass that never fails to point north, my feet never seem lost in finding their way there.

I hadn't set foot in that state for five painful years and, without a second's hesitation, my feet led me to the exact point I had been yearning to see for so long. With a gathering crowd of distressed onlookers, I threw my arms around that lamppost and sobbed like I had just been reunited with my long lost love... which, in some strange way, I had. I could barely believe that I was back, and when I did, I cried again. It was exactly the same as it had been in my dreams for every night over the time of my absence: there was the colorful sign with the bright green dragon that first drew me to the spot, back when I was thirteen; the street performers spread lazily along the sidewalk; and the ivy-clad lacy balconies I still paused to marvel at, even though I had seen them all before.

I found a room at the Hotel St. Marie, both for its proximity (only two blocks away on Toulouse) and for the name -- it was almost fate. After settling in to what would be my home for the next two months, I dressed to go out on the town -- to sightsee, I told myself. I never would have admitted that I wanted to find Logan or Remy. As it turned out, I never made it to the University of California at Berkeley that year -- or any year after that. In fact, I never even made it back to Mississippi. There was no way I could leave, not after everything that had happened. I've heard it said that home is where we love, "home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts."

My feet may have taken a small vacation, but my heart was then, now, and forever, firmly planted in New Orleans. When I stepped off that plane I felt that, for the first time in five years, I was home.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

I know the chapter is short, but it's meant to be an interlude, much like the first chapter. Each time Marie goes to New Orleans, there is a brief interlude to her point of view. Next chapter (much longer and explaining about everything that happened) coming soon.

Sorry for the delay but I had a lot going on. First Kit (my muse and Emerson) went into kidney failure and almost died, and then I had a horse show to get ready for. But Kit is fine and we won!

Notes:

---There actually IS a colorful sign with a bright green dragon on the corner of Toulouse and Royal, as well as a lamppost

---The quote about home is by Oliver Wendell Holmes

Reviewer Responses:

**Enchantedlight: **I'm so glad that you've been enjoying the story!

**Silverbells:** I've finally decided what she's doing with the ring, and that shows up in the next chapter. Cats really are good for advice, try it sometime ;) . Scott was more of a pity date than anything, but we shouldn't tell him that -- it would hurt his sensitive male pride. School gyms are proof that there is, in fact, great evil within our life. My prom was in the gym but it was actually really pretty -- see the description of Marie and Scott's, because that was mine... as well as Marie's dress. Belle is icky, I agree. You like my penname? Really? Wow... Thank you, yours is pretty too! I'm glad you like the story!... Did I forget anything? ;)

**Ishy:** Hmmmm, Remy covered in catnip... I'm not sure whether that image is scary or sexy... Is he wearing anything besides the catnip? Aaaaanyways, all will be explained in the next chapter. :Sounds all Jedi and cool like that: All will be made clear in time. So glad you like the story, and thanks for the review!

**Skysong:** How right you are! I hold nothing sacred when it comes to AUs (which becomes even more prevalent in later chapters). Mwa ha ha! Thanks for the review!

**Orange:** Wow! I had a dream that my parents shipped me off to boarding school in Japan, so after driving myself there in a car I moved in with a family and in my bedroom was a magic mirror that transported me to a trailer in Alabama with a scary old lady and her dog living in it. Then my friend showed up and we ate doughnuts before break dancing in the street. And the entire dream was in Japanese, with the exception of the Alabama scenes, which were in Spanish. And Scott is a mix of Scott Summers and Cody. Thanks for the review!

**Rogue-Slayer13:** It wasn't so soon, sorry, but here's the update!

**Lacey:** Awwww, thanks so much! I'm glad you're enjoying the story.

**Shira:** The "Lindsey Virus" has been thoroughly squashed. It was a combination of my neighbors and my beta's little sister. Thanks for the review and for putting up with the elusive Lindsey.

**CF:** You too? My brother hits me every time I say the words "X-Men!" Thanks for the review!


	6. Greetings From the Big Easy

Toulouse and Royal

Chapter Five

"Greetings From the Big Easy"

Logan was waiting in the terminal when Marie exited the plane.

Tossing her carry-on to the side she ran the final few steps, leaping into his arms, staggering them both backwards. He chuckled when he felt her tears dampening the cloth of his shirt, lifting her chin to meet her gaze and smiling when she sniffled a bit pathetically. "I missed ya, Darlin'. It's been too long." He pushed her to arm's distance to look her up and down, noting that it really _had _been five years since they last saw each other. She had grown up. "I'd say you look gorgeous, but you're a bit red and splotchy right now." Even she laughed at that, giggling wetly while accepting the handkerchief he offered. Wiping her eyes, she suddenly hugged the older man again.

"How'd you know I was coming?"

She looked up to see the hint of slyness in her friend's eyes, and he returned the embrace. "I set the trip up with a certain Hugh and Irene Draper. Even booked the flight." Marie gaped. So _that_ had been the reason of her trip to New Orleans! Logan had set the entire thing up with her aunt and uncle. Then her gaze shifted, darkening with tears again, not necessarily from the joy or returning to the Big Easy.

"Why didn't you call before? Or write or... anything!" It had been five years; five long years thinking her week spent here was nothing but a wonderful dream to treasure until the reality set in.

Logan held out the handkerchief again, smiling. "Ya left without leaving a number, an address, anything. Irene finally called Cosimo's two weeks ago and asked for me. Now quit that blubbering, this is _New Orleans_," he said the name as reverently as one might speak of a cathedral, and with the same connotations of sanctity behind them. Marie couldn't help but grin at the chills that ran down her spine with those two simple words. "Let's go." He hefted her bags and took her hand, leading her out of the airport.

They caught up in the car until, swinging onto Chartres, Logan insisted that Marie shut her eyes. "There's someone I think ya want to be seeing." Marie opened her mouth to ask questions, but he only turned up the volume on the radio. The car made a left turn somewhere up the road, then she felt it come to a slow stop. The driver door opened and shut, and there was a moment of silence before her door snapped open. Logan's rough voice sounded pleased when he helped her out of the car. "Open your eyes." She did, slowly, as to savor the surprise, but froze when she saw what that surprise was.

"Oh..." Tears pricked her eyes again and she took a step forward, disbelieving. She reached a hand up, hesitantly, then smiled when she saw that, although she had grown, her surprise still stood taller than she did. She reached out, more confident, than dropped all hesitances and threw her arms around the surprise, sobbing against it. Logan laughed like he had back at the bar when they first met, and a few onlookers stopped to cheer as well -- even if they couldn't even begin to understand the significance. "I missed you," she whispered, burying her face against her familiar surprise.

There was no answer from the lamppost, but she could almost imagine that it was glad to see her too.

-x-x-x-

Logan got her settled at the Hotel St. Marie before leaving her to clean up, promising to meet her at Cosimo's in an hour's time. She washed and dressed eagerly, her mind already out in the bustling streets and only waiting for her body to catch up. As she nearly skipped down the stairs and through the lobby, she threw caution to the wind and laughed aloud. Running back to her room, she lifted the dilapidated teddy bear from where it lay propped against a pillow. She had had this bear since going to live with her aunt and uncle, and it was nearly falling apart from seventeen years of hugs. It had been a rich chocolate brown at one time in its life, and quite velvety as well, with a pouch in the back for a hot water bottle. Marie actually quite liked the cold, and so had little use for any sort of heater in the bed -- save her cat -- but the pocket came in handy for hiding a treasure or two. She reached inside, grabbed the only item now hidden in the bear, and slid the ring onto her finger.

The first place she went -- second really, for she first went to make sure the lamppost had not disappeared or changed in the twenty minutes since she saw it last -- was Cosimo's. Logan would not be there for another forty minutes or so, but the guys who had taught her poker were all too happy to see the young girl they had adopted so long ago. Even the bartender, who had only met her through hearing the regulars lament her absence for five years, came over to welcome her back. It was touching, really, that her poker group remembered her. Especially since she had actually learned to play over the last few years, often beating her uncle in their weekly Saturday night games.

They were well into the fifth game (Marie had won two all on her own skill) when Logan arrived. Another round of drinks was ordered, and Marie realized how at home she felt when Logan lit up on of the cigars she remembered him smoking. The dark atmosphere felt homey, the company felt warm, and Marie smiled internally. Now that she was here, how could she ever leave? The door swung open, only the sudden rush of clean air giving it away, then closed again when whoever was there had entered. It was like deja vu for Marie as the young man, now fully grown, sauntered over in that same brown trench, still bursting with so much New Orleans that it was hard to believe one person contained it all. His hair was a bit longer and his chin was bit stronger, his face more defined, but it was till the same Remy.

"I see you all went and started without me. That's real sweet, makes me feel all -- Holy Hell! _Marie?_" He swept her up into a bear hug, crushing her against his chest. They stayed that way for a minute, a minute during which Marie could not really breathe but didn't really mind, before Remy let her back onto her feet to look at her. Marie smiled again. Just as with the lamppost, it seemed that New Orleans had grown up right along with her -- the top of her head fit just under Remy's chin. It couldn't have been more then a minute, the time they spent staring at each other, until Logan coughed slightly and the guys all began to laugh. Both Marie and Remy reddened before Remy, ever the practical one, offered his hand in greeting. "Good to see you, Marie."

She took it, shaking it as though they had not just embraced like old lovers. "You too, Remy." She smiled shyly when he did not release her hand. "I missed you."

His grin made her fear of seeing him melt. "I missed you too."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Here it is, on Friday, just like I promised! I'm over my food poisoning, Kit's all better, Marie and Remy met, life is good. Hope you enjoy!

Reviewer Responses:

**CF**: I –heart- brief interludes too! They're just so much fun! I'm glad you like the story, here's the next chapter!

**Ishy**: Cruel, yes. But cute too, so I'm worth it! (My dad says that about me all the time) I'm glad you like the story, I really am. I think you'll like exactly WHAT happens in New Orleans, so stay tuned. It may not be as quick as a bunny on crack, but definitely as a bunny on some umber potent caffeine pills.

**Skysong**: It's not damn long, but I think it came pretty fast, all things considering. Hope it was satisfactory.

**Orange**: My dreams scare everyone. Thanks for offering concern about Kit, we both appreciated it!

**Enchantedlight**: Glad you liked it!

**Roguechere**: I personally think that the harmonica is a very manly instrument. I could see Logan playing it for extra cash. Anyways, thanks so much for the compliments! I'm glad you like the story!

**Lacey**: I feel kinda bad about making the interlude SO short, but it was necessary for the story. Glad you liked it, though, and here's the next chapter!

**Stacy**: Wow, thank you. I don't really know what else to say to a review like yours except "wow" and "thank you."

**Silverbells**: The school thing makes sense in the next few chapters, don't worry. And she found both Logan and Remy! YAY! Thanks for the review!

**Keegan**: Wahoo, I'm flow-y! Thank you for the compliment, as well as the review.

**Shira**: MWA HA HA! I LOVED your Gene Kelly allusion. Made me happy, because I –heart- Gene Kelly. As for the hotel room, I foresee... it's a secret. But its not all that expensive after awhile. :-)

**Teesa**: Awww, thank you. Yes, my muse is alive and quite well on this story. I'm glad you like it, but please don't kick yourself. Kicking hurts. ;-)


	7. Getting to Know You

Toulouse and Royal

Chapter Six

"Getting to Know You"

The eighth game of the night was just about over when Remy leaned over to whisper in Marie's ear, "After we collect our winnings from this game, let's go out, you and I. I'll give ya the tour." He seemed to forget, or maybe only ignore, that she had been to the French Quarter before and had already been given the tour by Logan. _But_, she thought to herself, _it'll be different this time. I'm an adult now, and it's not Logan I'm going with. It's Remy._ Hiding her inner monologue and the track it seemed to be going down, she elbowed him lightly in the side.

"Bit sure of yourself, aren't you?" she teased. They both knew he was not being arrogant -- he was just _that_ good at cards. If he said he was going to win the hand, he would. She folded, as was their custom, and watched as the guys, now past drunk, bet upwards of twenty dollars each. The pot grew to a hundred and fifty total dollars before Logan called the end of the hand, revealing a full house that would be tough to beat. Remy won, of course.

They headed out on the town, a hundred and fifty dollars richer and five years of life behind where they should be. It was fun, for a while, to just walk arm in arm down the streets and see everyone else doing the same. It felt so normal to them, even though they had never done it before, that they were content to wander throughout the French Quarter with no set destination. They talked about anything that came to mind, getting to know each other as they had failed to do the first time they met. Marie was tickled to learn that her four years of high-school French were not a waste; Remy was fluent, and the language actually sounded as beautiful as the novels said it did when he spoke it. Remy enjoyed learning that Marie was an accomplished singer, namely because her mother had been an aspiring Broadway actress when she was alive.

Remy was allergic to beestings and had two dogs: a German shepherd named Tanner and a miniature poodle -- a gift from a his niece, he explained while biting back a grimace, who only turned six last month -- named Olivia. Marie was afraid of spiders and liked waffles for breakfast; namely Belgian waffles, but Eggo was more common -- and practical -- in her life. They went on like this for a few hours, trading information and finding where their interests overlapped -- or were so different that it was almost amusing. The only real snag, which was not a snag really seeing as they would never overlap in a situation like this, they both adamantly exclaimed, was that both Marie and Remy preferred sleeping on the side of the bed nearest the door.

They learned and laughed with each other, and it wasn't until the crowd from the Original Dungeon began to stumble home, drunk and possibly high, that they realized how late it must be. "Merde," Remy grinned, rubbing his eyes to try and clear the haze that settled over them with a lack of sleep. "It's five in the morning." Marie gawked; amazed that time had gotten away from them like that. Remy suddenly groaned, then turned to Marie and offered his hand. "I have to be at work in three hours, how about if I walk you back to your hotel and we can get together tomorrow. Is that alright?"

She grinned and took it, clasping his hand as they strolled back along Toulouse Street to the hotel. Remy escorted her to her room, made sure she was safely inside, then kissed her on the cheek and went off to his own apartment, which he had mentioned was on Bourbon Street. Marie fell into bed; exhausted enough to only remove her shoes, thinking that the two months she would be here wasn't nearly long enough.

-x-x-x-

Marie reluctantly woke up later that morning at nine-thirty, when the desk called with the alarm time she had set upon arrival. She groaned and sat up, wishing she hadn't stayed out so late, and was about to flop back down to sleep until two in the afternoon when there was a knock on her door. She went to the door, sliding the lock off the door when she saw that it was only a bellboy with some sort of tray. He swept into the room, far too bright and awake for her liking, and placed the tray on the small table in her room before sweeping out in the same manner. Marie groggily lifted the lid off the tray, then smiled despite her exhaustion. It was a Belgian waffle, still warm, with a single white gardenia. Remy had not only remembered her favorite breakfast, but her favorite scent as well.

Marie was showered and out the door by ten-thirty, ready for another day of sightseeing and familiarizing herself with the French Quarter. It wasn't the same, she realized, to wander around like some tourist -- even if she was. She had always been accompanied by a local, either Logan or Remy, who showed her the less frequented establishments. But this was also a unique experience, she thought, meandering down Bourbon Street with the throngs of people from all over the country. That wasn't to say there weren't locals as well; she recognized a man who had been at the bar in Cosimo's, who waved before heading into a restaurant for an early lunch. It was just that the majority of the people she saw on Bourbon Street looked lost and out of place, clutching maps or cameras tightly, as if afraid New Orleans would drag them away in a wave of wild, passionate life.

She had just passed a family on vacation from Boston -- or so she guessed from their accents -- when it hit her. She did _not _have the look of someone lost in a sea of jazz. She did not look as though she had spent less time in the French Quarter than she had in her English class senior year. She had the quiet, easy arrogance that the locals had, the saucy bounce that allowed them to pass among the scared tourists and street vendors without every having to make contact, to pass through the alleys and the openings in the crowd with the ease of one who had been doing it their whole life. She realized, then, that the tourists she had been watching had been watching her back, but watching with that fascination she had had when she was thirteen, that wonder of the people who seemed to absorb whatever the city threw at them and to take it in stride. She realized then that she belonged here.

People, as she walked down the street, paused to wave, and a few even greeted her by name. It was not many, only about fifteen, but it was people she knew from Cosimo's, Yo Mama's, or from her poker group of five others. And they, in turn, stopped others to introduce whoever it was to her. She laughed when she was introduced to people, usually because it was along the lines of "Francois! This is the girl I was tellin' ya about... Logan's kid," or, "_This_ is Marie. Ya know... Remy's friend." She met the locals or Bourbon Street, was welcomed by them, and dove in to the town with a determination to make it her own. When Remy found her later that afternoon, she was seated comfortably at the bar in the Famous Door, trading jokes with the bartender and Remy's older brother.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

I feel happy today, so I decided to update... again! Here's another chapter, and chapter seven should be coming tomorrow. I'm on an updating spree right now.

Reviewer Responses:

**Shira**: You get the "Special Reviewer Award" for this story, both for submitting the longest review I have ever received and for being the first to mention the most important theme thus far. Bravo::Applause and fanfare and such: Marie mentions both that her "first love is a city" and that Remy is "New Orleans personified." Yay for you, Shira. You rock! Glad you enjoy the story, and here's a special update, just for you.

**Silverbells**: Heh heh, I had _far_ too much fun with the lamppost scene. But the lamppost is, in a way, her friend. If it were sentient, that is. Thank you for the review!

**Ishy**: Here's my quickest update ever! Kiss my Mardi Gras beads, Oh Bunnies on Crack. MWA HA HA! Glad you liked it, and I added some Fluffy McFlufferson in this chapter. But I realize now that I ended it with a bit of a cliffhanger. I apologize now, sorry! Thanks for reviewing!

**CF**: I love poker too. Glad you liked the chapter, here's a new one. Let me know if you like it!

**Everwing**: Thank you for the review and the compliment, I'm glad you like the story. Here's a new chapter.


	8. The Rear Bedroom

Toulouse and Royal

--Chapter Seven—

"The Rear Bedroom"

"_Mon dieu, j'ai tellement des ennuis_." **My God, I am in so much trouble.**

The three at the bar laughed at that, hearing Remy's plaintive observation when he saw Marie and Henri together. They had been introduced earlier that day and, since then, Marie had enjoyed the companionship of the older LeBeau brother -- as well as the stories he had to tell. Henri was like their father in appearance, he had said proudly upon meeting her, with darker looks that were, on him, equally as attractive as Remy's coffee-and-whisky coloring. He had the robust and swarthy aspect of a pirate -- or Rhett Butler -- and Marie had liked him instantly. Of course, part of her liking him could have been born from the way he had greeted her, with a booming laugh and a loud, "I could tell ya stories about my dear little brother that would make ya want to giggle... or cry, depending on your sense of humor. Claude, more drinks!"

"Howdy, Remy," she smiled at him, biting her lip to keep from giggling aloud at the sight of him. It was hard, now that she had learned every embarrassing aspect of his life, to look at him in the same light. In fact, it was hard to look at him at all without trying to imagine him in a pink tutu. He seemed to understand where the awkwardness spawned from, for he turned on Henri and glared.

"Thank you, brother dear. I knew I could count on you to corrupt her." He slung an arm over the shorter, stockier Henri's shoulders and tightened his grip, pulling the older man into a headlock before releasing him to stand behind Marie. "I will see you for dinner on Sunday, give my best to Merci and Céline." Now smiling fondly at his brother, he offered a hand to Marie. "Can I convince you to come with me before he starts telling you about my eighth grade graduation ceremony?" Marie took the hand and, bidding a cheerful farewell to Henri and Claude, the bartender, before heading off down Bourbon Street with Remy.

"By the way, Rems," they could hear her telling him before they disappeared into the throng of tourists and locals. "Henri told me that story _hours_ ago."

-x-x-x-

Marie was yawning, practically falling asleep in her dinner before Remy realized how tired they both were. She had held up for a few hours, hiding yawns and other displays of exhaustion behind her hand as she tried to keep up for as long as possible. Still, she _had_ only gotten two hours of sleep earlier in the day and it was around six in the evening. She yawned heavily, smiling sheepishly at Remy when he looked in her direction. "Sorry," she managed. "It's not you, Ah promise. Ah'm just tired."

He grinned, tossing some money down on the table for a tip before leading her out. "Me too," he admitted, once they were out on the street. They had spent the day much like the night before, learning more about the other and becoming closer friends, but, like the night before, the hours had gotten away from them. He checked his watch, turning to Marie for a quick conference on their plans. "You want me to walk you back to the hotel? Either that or I can take you back to my place." At her hesitance he held his hands out, quickly elaborating. "Just to sleep, I promise. I have a spare bedroom."

The grateful smile that lit up her weary features dispelled any awkwardness, and she easily slipped her arm through his. "Lead the way."

He did, taking her a few blocks up Bourbon Street to the steps of a renovated townhouse, its brick exterior looking to be at least a hundred years old. He fumbled in his pocket for the key, then grimaced and turned to Marie, who was down two steps. "Watch out." Then, turning the key, he opened the door and unleashed a whirlwind of gold, tan, and white fur. Three dogs rushed straight past Remy, bounding down the steps to almost knock Marie off her feet in a show of canine welcome. The largest of the three, the German shepherd, was obviously Remy's Tanner, who he had mentioned the night before. Also Remy's, she recognized from the description, was the white miniature poodle, Olivia. But the third, a hyperactive golden retriever who was currently leaning against Marie's leg while drooling happily, was a stranger.

"Hello." She giggled when the golden wagged his tail hard enough for his entire body to wriggle back and forth. Tanner remained more aloof, standing at a sedate three feet away from her. Olivia did a complete three-sixty before sprinting back to Remy, jumping up onto her hind legs and spinning until he lifted her up into his arms.

"The golden is Jax, my roommate's dog. He's crazy, feel free to ignore him -- we all do. Let's head inside." He grinned when Jax, still drooling, jumped up to place a sloppy dog-kiss on Marie's cheek before dashing inside with the same enthusiasm. Tanner, as indifferent as he always seemed to be when it came to Marie, trotted after his master while Marie followed, slightly taken aback by the interior of the house.

It was classic and elegant; with furnishings more suited to a hotel rather than the apartment of someone like Remy. The first room was a small entryway, which led to a hallway spanning the length of the building. There were doors on the right hand side, a door at the end, and a single door to their left, which Jax was now lying in front of while chewing a bone. The walls were a pale cream shade, and the floor -- where uncovered by carpeting -- was mahogany. Remy juggled the dog in his arms to open the door at the far end of the hall, gesturing inside. "You can sleep in here." Marie entered, and instantly fell a little bit more in love with the city.

The room was a stark white, with clean white carpets that made Marie feel a bit dizzy if she stared directly at them for too long. But the furniture -- the four-poster bed, the dresser, the bedside table, and even the small bench at the foot of the bed -- was made of black wood. It lent the room a regal grace that completely took her breath away. When she had imagined Remy's living space -- not that she had, she quickly amended -- it had always been as a place more suited to his chaotic and charismatic personality. But this was... this was beauty and grace rolled into the most simple form. While Remy still stood by the door she crossed to a pair of French doors, delicately draped in white linen, and opened them to a small balcony overlooking the common lawn and patio shared by the houses in the area. "It's gorgeous."

Remy smiled, shrugging. "This is the guest bedroom -- it's hardly ever used. Sammie, my roommate, keeps it pretty clean." He bent over to put Olivia, now squirming, on the floor before heading into the hall. "You can stay here as long as you want to." She opened her mouth to thank him, or perhaps merely to ask him to wake her up in a few hours, but he continued before she could interrupt. "I mean it, Marie. This room is yours for as long as you want to stay." When her eyes changed, understanding him, he grinned lopsidedly. "It's cheaper than living in a hotel for two months... and Sammie's a _great_ cook."

Marie was flabbergasted. The room was perfect, everything she could ever ask for in a room, and she enjoyed spending time with Remy. But moving in with him? Despite their close friendship, she had only really known him for about a week now. _You're not moving in with **him**, _the part of her mind that only really awakened in New Orleans spoke up. _Just into his spare bedroom._ She nodded at the logic, smiling warmly. "Thank you, Remy. Ah'd love that."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Whee, an update! I should sleep -- it's like, two am here and I go see Wicked in twelve hours. Sooooo excited... I love my life. Enjoy the update!

Reviewer Responses:

**WolvGambit Le Diable Blanc**: Glad you're enjoying the story! Here's some more, hope you like it!

**Orange**: Thanks for the warning, I've gotten the same emails. But until they post the rule on the site, I chose to ignore it. Besides, if none of you guys report me, I'll be fine. :D Thanks for the review, I'm glad you like the fic.

**Roguechere**: It was _technically_ chapter six, since the first chapter is more of a prologue... Anyway, I have no plans for a sequel, especially since this one is FAR from over. I'll let you know though. Thanks for reviewing!

**Enchantedlight**: Glad you're enjoying the story! Here's some more, hope you like it!

**Silverbells**: I love waffles. I wish someone would send me waffles. You'll hear some stories that Henri told Marie, don't worry. Thanks you, I'm glad you like the story and the chapter.

**Rogue-Slayer13**: Glad you're enjoying the story! Here's some more, hope you like it!

**Ishy**: I agree. I crave waffles, but have none of the ingredients. That, and they wouldn't taste as good without a Remy sending them with his love. I AM lucky you stopped by, I LOVE hearing from you! Let's get some more caps lock in this response. THANKS FOR THE REView -- caps lock annoys me, sorry -- and I hope you like this chapter.

**Teesa**: That lamppost is the coolest. I want him to be a character in the story. Anyways, thanks for the review! Glad you like it.

**Katty**: My most favoritest reviewer/reader ever! OMG! You found the story! Glad you like it, I'll write more. Love you much, with lots of whipped cream and Kuma plushies. Like fifty. I want fifty. Maybe more, depends. Emailed my friend, you know the one, will update you on how that goes. I should email you and not take up so much space here. Did I mention I love you? I really do. My love for you is forever and eternal, like herpes or a heroin addiction. :D Isn't that one cracktastic?

**Lacey**: In addition to my email, you get a short response here: Thank you for reviewing! You rock, glad you like it, and all that jazz. Good to hear from ya!


	9. Night Lights and Jazz

Toulouse and Royal

--Chapter Eight--

"Night Lights and Jazz"

Marie awoke some time later, she was unable to determine exactly when, to see four pairs of eyes staring at her from an uncomfortably close distance at the foot of the bed. "_Yeeeesh_!" she shouted, flailing about as she tried wildly to stand, only to be caught up in the bed sheets. She managed to get her footing, only to blush with embarrassment when she came face to face with her watchers -- the three dogs and a girl maybe a few years older than herself. "Hi," she reverted to manners in order to cover her awkwardness. "Ah'm Marie."

The girl grinned, her bright white teeth a blinding white in her pale face. She had smooth, ivory-colored skin and lush blonde hair, which would have been nearly to her lower back were it not pulled back into a thick braid. "I know." Her smile was infectious, and Marie could not help but like her instantly. "Remy's been talking about you... nonstop really, since you got here." She rose and went to the dresser by the door, taking the tray that Marie could now see was perched there, and carried it over to the bed. "You slept through lunch, so I brought you something. Hope you aren't allergic to shellfish."

It was a thick shrimp Creole over red beans and rice, with a steaming hunk of cornbread placed haphazardly in the middle. It smelled spicy and enticing -- much like the city -- and Marie's stomach growled happily. "It looks delicious." She took a quick bite, and was surprised when her eyes instantly watered at the amount of spices in the dish; normally spicy food didn't bother her much.

Sammie -- or, at least, she assumed this was Remy's roommate -- laughed and clapped her on the back. "Sorry. My mum always taught me that if you didn't cry on the first bite, you haven't made it right." She smiled fondly, her mind obviously back with her mother. "The cornbread'll help." It did help, and Marie was suddenly grateful for the large portion as the first bite stopped the watering of her yes and allowed her to speak again.

"How long was I asleep?" She nibbled at the outer edges of the dish where there was less sauce, not wanting to be carrying on both a conversation and the earlier coughing fit the spice had caused.

Sammie tapped her lips thoughtfully, a habit that Marie recognized from her Aunt Irene, before answering. "Since last night... I guess Remy kept you out too late the night before?" She waggled her eyebrows suggestively, which sparked an entirely different bout of choking on Marie's part, before continuing deviously. "Why don't you get dressed and I'll show you around the apartment?" Marie opened her mouth to protest, to tell Sammie that her clothes were back at the hotel with the rest of her possessions, until she noticed that everything she had brought to New Orleans was piled in the corner of the room; her room. Someone, Remy she suspected, had made it quite clear that the room was hers, for the next two months, at least.

"How did?... alright." Sammie, followed closely by the herd of dogs that seemed to be underfoot the entire way, took the tray and left the room, precariously stepping over each of the three dogs that seemed to determined to trip her. Marie went over to the corner and grabbed the largest of her bags, the one containing most of her clothes and that usually weighed about equal to Marie's weight -- if not a bit more --, giving it a sharp yank to start the momentum she would need to haul it's bulk across the floor. She let out a startled yelp as it rocketed towards her, obviously empty, before tumbling backwards to land heavily on her rear with the upturned suitcase on her stomach. A small piece of paper flitted out, which she crumpled immediately upon reading.

_Marie,_

_I unpacked your clothes into the dresser, except those that looked fancy; they're in the closet. I hope you slept well, and I'll see you when I get off work._

_Fondly,_

_Remy_

The note was written in neat, precise handwriting that was not without a touch of chaos to it in the way the dots didn't quite land over the i's, or the way the words occasionally bled over or under the lines on the paper. Without even reading the signature, she had known that it was from Remy. Realizing now that she had thought enough about him over the past five years to know what type of handwriting he would have, she lightly pounded her head against the carpet. "Oh no you don't, Marie... you got over this schoolgirl crush a few weeks ago, remember?"

Not surprisingly, she didn't remember.

-x-x-x-

"And this," Sammie gestured proudly to the large, airy room they ended the tour in, "Is the sitting room, arguably the most used room in the house. This is where we relax, where we have our morning coffee, and where we host our 'It's-Another-Dateless-Saturday-Night-For-Remy-And-Sammie' movie nights." She grinned, gesturing in turn to the sprawling couches, elegant table and chair sets, and the large television that seemed to dominate a single wall.

"And how often does that take place?" Marie raised an eyebrow, only half-serious.

Sammie's grin widened, nearly reaching from ear to ear. She was like that, Marie had learned, always able to find the joy in a situation, no matter how dreary it seemed. "More often than you might think." She led the younger girl out through one of the twin sets of French doors onto a balcony that, unlike the small one Marie had been delighted to discover in her bedroom, spanned the length of the townhouse and overlooked the street. It really was a gorgeous place; both the house and the view. She leaned over to watch the going-ons below, crossing her arms along the railing and just standing there, content to watch New Orleans come and go. Smiling knowingly to herself, Sammie returned inside and shut the door, leaving her new friend to her solitude.

The street lamps had just lit and the street performers were just starting to pack their acts up for the night when Marie realized exactly how late it was. Sure enough, when she glanced at her watch, it was half past seven and she had hardly noticed the hours go by. She shivered, not entirely from the tender caress of a breeze blowing in from the delta, but wished now that she had dressed in more than the pink and brown tank top and khaki skirt; with the sun going down, the temperature had dropped at least eight degrees. Sudden comfort fell around her in the form of an aged brown trench coat, which smelled of spices and tobacco and warmth, as Remy leaned on the railing next to her. "Hey," he spoke softly, unwilling to break the spell that the night lights of the city had woven over that small stretch of concrete and iron.

"Hey," she answered back. There were no more words spoken between them, nor any need, really. The city vocalized loud enough for both of them, but they were unable to find the words they wanted said among the jazz strains.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

You know, I really like the ending to this chapter. Like, I really do. Maybe because I know what it means, or maybe I really love that whole metaphorical type writing. I don't know, I just like it.

Sorry this took so long... school started up again and, as a senior, I have had an assload of homework even in the first week. I think I've adjusted though, so the updates should be coming more regularly again.

Reviewer Responses:

**Enchantedlight**: Thanks for the review!

**Silverbells**: YAY! Waffles! Yes, men in pink tutus make me quite happy. I'll bring the tutu back in later chapters, just for kicks and giggles. Actually, the room was just kept that way. Sammie cleans obsessively whenever she gets upset (which, as a woman, happens QUITE a bit) so the room stays perfect. And Sammie will make waffles. From scratch. According to Sammie's mom, frozen food is a sin. (Then I have sinned, for I am a tad bit culinary challenged)

**Teesa**: Here's more!

**Lacey**: I'm more of a dog person too, but please don't tell my cat (who, coincidently, also has a Japanese name -- Kitsune.) And I would have to agree with wanting that room. It's gorgeous. And a Remy would only make it complete! Thanks for the review, I love hearing from ya.

**Mia126**: Glad you like it! They'll be more later, I promise.

**Katya**: Awww, I love you too sweetie. More than the world has love enough to express. I am yours forever and a day, my darling. You are the breath of my heart, the light of my soul, the joy of my love... If you can top that, I'll send you a pic of me in a pink tutu. :D Love ya much!

**PyroMac**: Wicked was amazing. Glad you liked the chapter!

**Ishy**: Don't worry. Due to popular request, the pink tutu and Remy's eighth grade graduation will appear in more detail later. And I love puppies! Of course she's moving in with _him_, she's just suffering a severe case of denial. I'll have to take that emotion out back and shot it soon.

**WolvGambit** **Le** **Diable** **Blanc**: Addicted? Really? Wow... I'm not sure whether to feel proud or bad that I'm putting you through withdrawal...

**Mary**: No idea, it could be. Thanks for the review.

**4Rogue**: Olivia would like it pointed out that she, in fact, owns both the dogs and the people living with her. Thanks for the review!

**NightGoddess**: Thank you for the lovely review, I'm glad you like it. And you aren't a geek. I am for actually understanding you're reference.


	10. It Happened One Night

Toulouse and Royal

--Chapter Nine--

"It Happened One Night"

There was a change in the air.

The apartment, home to now three vibrant young adults and just as many dogs, remained silent most of the day, where once playful banter had occupied the quiet. The change spawned from the rapidly strengthening relationship between Remy and Marie, something that neither of them was willing to admit to despite the obvious nature of their bond to Sammie and their poker group. They had been friends, close and trusted friends, for so _long_, so _short_ a time that anything else was foreign and frightening -- but not altogether unwelcome.

The change had occurred after that night spent on the balcony, that night where awkward fumblings for words never even made it beyond the brain before being swept away on the breeze as feebly as autumn leaves. It had started with a touch, a simple hand placed on her lower back to guide her inside and to bed, and an equally simple squeezing of his hand as a thanks for lending his coat. The next morning had brought embarrassed greetings, all blushes and the avoiding of eye contact, until Sammie had finally threatened to lock them both in a closet if they didn't sit down and talk. She had then, giving them one hour to work out "whatever had their hormones confused," left to her studio flat above the townhouse and turned the television on loud enough to be heard downstairs.

It didn't take an hour.

In as much time as it took both to clumsily stammer some meaningless remark about the weather or Sammie's foul nature, the problem resolved itself. Marie smiled first, first shyly and then with the full good nature that she usually had, and Remy was quick to follow with one of his nearly trademarked charismatic grins that almost reverted Marie to the social gawkiness of before. Then both had laughed, realizing that they were still just Remy and Marie, two friends who had done nothing but been caught up in the whirl and allure of the city that had infused its heady sensuality into their minds. But, they had agreed as they sat together on the couch to watch "It Happened One Night," what had happened last night was merely an influence of the city, like being drunk on the vibrancy and sensuousness in the air, and they were back to themselves now.

A quarter of the way through the movie, Remy's arm found its way around Marie's waist. Halfway through the movie, Marie's head had drifted back until it rested on Remy's chest, and her body had somehow curled up against his side. Three quarters of the way through the movie found Remy idly running his fingers through Marie's hair, pausing every once in a while to brush his thumb against her cheek, almost without realizing what he was doing. Then the movie was nearly over, and it was nearly time to return to the real world that was more fantasy than the film. There was a softly murmured remark from one of them and the other, struggling to hear over the film and their own preoccupation, tilted their head towards the other to catch the noise. Whether through some twist of fate or the mere positioning of their bodies, that single shift of the head brought their lips together.

It was a chaste and gentle kiss, lasting forever and yet all too short for the two involved, but perfect nonetheless. And, in the years to come, neither would ever be able to recall who actually spoke to cause such a moment.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

A short chapter, I know, but sometimes there just isn't a lot to say.

I'm back! I was pretty depressed, what with school and Hurricane Katrina, but I feel that I need to get on with my life and continue what I love: my writing. So here we go, a new chapter!

Notes:

---"It Happened One Night" (put out in 1934 starring Clark Gable and Claudette Colbert) is a reference to the relationship between Remy and Marie. Did you catch that? It happened one night... much like them realizing their feelings. I had fun with that.

---I have actually had people threaten to lock me and another person (friend or what have you) in a closet if we didn't work out our issues, and only had to be locked in a closet once.

---Marie was born in the year 1980, making the time in the story at this exact time to be June 16, 1998.

Reviewer Responses:

**Kat**: You win.

**CF**: I concur wholeheartedly. Cajun food is meant to kill you, I swear. :glares at Dad: THAT'S WHY YOU MAKE ME GUMBO EVERY ONCE IN A WHILE! Anyways, thanks so much for the reviews, glad you liked the chapters.

**WolvGambit** **Le** **Diable** **Blanc**: Here's a new chapter, however short. Hope you like!

**Silverbells**: Sammie's mom is THE Cooking Goddess, and we will learn everything about Sammie in the future -- good or not. I like Sammie too, she's quite quirky and wonky and stuff like that. Thanks for the review, as well as your concerns over my relatives. They have called, and everything is good with them.

**Teesa**: That's because Remy is just that damn stealthy. Glad you liked it!

**Mia126**: Glad you liked the ending, seeing as I kept the same writing style in this chapter (sans dialogue even!) School's ok, but mainly because it's my last year.

**Enchantedlight**: Glad you enjoyed it!

**Roguechere**: Glad you enjoyed it!

**NightGoddess**: I totally do that too! I write my stories as if I were filming them in my head, mainly because I'm a film geek and took film classes years ago. I would love to make Toulouse and Royal into a movie, but I'd be way too picky about the casting. :sigh: Anyways, thanks for the review! I'm glad you like it!

**Ishy**: Pffft. Wimp. Just teasing! Yes, it does seem as though Remy spent the last five years pining away for Marie -- but did he really? Or was Sammie lying to make Marie feel better? I'll let you know in the next chapter. :D

**Xmengirlzrule**: Awww, Toulousey (what I affectionately call the story) feels loved right now. Glad you love it, and yes. It will be Romy (not so much _eventually_, but whatever).


	11. Clover Leaf

Toulouse and Royal

Chapter Ten

"Clover Leaf"

The moment, perfectly Kodak in the joy it brought to both parties, was quickly broken by a gleeful whoop and the bright flash of a camera. Marie reddened instantly, burying her face under a couch cushion and desperately hoping it was only Sammie and not the entire world -- even though that seemed like a very Sammie thing to do, invite the entire world. It was Remy who took action, vaulting over the back of the couch to tackle Sammie to the floor, wrestling the camera out of her hands. There was the sound of a struggle, muffled by the cushion, and then the front door slamming and locking. Then Remy was back, grinning as he removed the pillow and tossed it across the room. "I really hate her sometimes."

Marie glanced over at the balcony; Sammie was seated on a chair outside, clutching a very broken camera and glaring at the locked door, but smiling nevertheless when she caught Marie's eye. She grinned and flashed Marie the thumb's up sign, then gestured at Remy and mouthed something that was either meant to be "clover leaf" or "go for it." Marie chose to believe it was the latter of the two -- but again, with Sammie it could have been anything -- and did "go for it." Smiling slyly, her shyness obviously gone now with this new humor, she grasped Remy by the shirtfront and dragged his lips back down to hers.

-x-x-x-

Remy was awake in his bed and it was four in the morning. Now this event in and of itself was not unusual; Remy was often awake in his bed at such early hours of the day. But this time Remy was awake and _alone_, and that was something quite unusual. He was not a greater thinker, usually. That's not to say he wasn't intelligent, far from it, but Remy tended to be one of those who leaned towards logic rather that the abstract concept of wondering. But this night he was not only wondering, a thing he found most abstract, but he was wondering on a abstract concept -- love.

He and Marie had parted ways after the kiss, returning to their respective bedrooms with a lingering goodnight, and Remy watched her door close before letting Sammie back in. She had winked suggestively before leaving him alone, with nothing but his thoughts and the replays of the kiss he kept going over in his mind. That was also unusual, that the thought of a few kisses could keep him so enthralled; always before it had been him sleeping peacefully and the girl left awake to hope there was more to come. And so, he logically deduced, either he had become a woman, or he was falling in love.

That was a frightening thought for Remy, who had never been the monogamous type -- usually he had at least two girlfriends at any one time, not that either ever knew. Yet he was lying awake at four in the morning hoping he could change for her, be the man she deserved.

He chuckled half-heartedly, amused that it was a seventeen-year-old girl he hardly knew to be the one to change him. There was just something about Marie -- the way she smiled and laughed, the way she joked with the guys at Cosimo's, the way she seemed to be everything New Orleans meant to him placed into the body of a stunning young woman -- that made him want to change who he had been for twenty-three years now. An algebra teacher at the local middle school who occasionally played rock music on an old guitar, Remy suddenly found himself wanting to study Shakespeare and listen to Broadway show tunes... because that was who she was. She was a dreamer and a poet and everything he was not, and everything he wanted to now be.

"Mon dieu," he laughed. "It's only goin' to get worse from here."

-x-x-x-

Two weeks later, Sammie woke up to a sound she rarely heard: Remy's guitar was humming out a poignant melody. It was on rare occasions that Remy played, either because he was embarrassed or busy, but Sammie rather enjoyed her roommate's "guilty pleasure." He really was quite good and, she joked to Jax, the guitar was much better than some of the other "guilty pleasures" a male roommate could have had. She rose and wandered down to the sitting room, pausing in the doorway to listen.

It was rather unlike Remy's usual music selection: this one had no grating chords or harsh riffs to it. Instead, he was finger picking a simple tune that bespoke of memories, either happy or sad. Sammie was about to enter and sit on the couch when the second sound joined his guitar, the sound that froze her to the spot and compelled her to listen. Marie was singing.

Her voice was lilting and pure, as when she spoke, but with a husky and full quality that could only be heard when she sang. The song, unknown to Sammie, was in perfect time to Remy's guitar, and she could only assume he was playing for her -- with her. The two melodies blended perfectly, and when the guitar wavered out on Marie's final note, Sammie applauded happily. "Bravo! Encore!" Marie blushed, but Remy greeted her with the lazy grin she had seen far too much of ever since Marie moved in. "You never used to play that thing when I was home, you know."

Remy shrugged from his perch atop the back of the couch. "I never had a reason." He smiled warmly to Marie, who returned the expression, before sticking his tongue out at his roommate. "Or a grateful audience."

"Is it _my_ fault that Jax howls every time you play?"

"Yes," his voice was still joking. "I caught you giving him steak every time he barked."

Sammie stuck her tongue out as well, then turned to the young woman who was currently drinking forma water bottle and watching the banter with a very entertained expression. "That was lovely. What was it?"

Marie capped the water and tossed it onto the table, then sat next to Remy on the couch back. "It's called 'Heaven Help My Heart,'" she looked down at her hands and fiddled with the silver ring she had taken to wearing all the time now. "From the musical Chess. It's the musical my mother was rehearsing for... before she died." She looked up at her friends, who were both quite silent when faced with the unspoken topic of Marie's past. "And that's the song she sang at a karaoke bar. When she met my father."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Sorry for the delay... I have play rehearsal EVERY DAY and am barely ever home anymore. Please bear with me. And this is a repost because I included the worng song title. My bad... :D

Notes:

---"Heaven Help My Heart" (from Chess) is a wonderful song. Go listen to it. (Or just read the lyrics online)

---I am currently making the soundtrack listing for Toulouse and Royal. I'll post it when it's done.

---In my personal opinion, someone playing the guitar/piano accompaniment for me is the most intimate step in a relationship. Seriously.

Reviewer Responses: Quick note (aka Ori bitching) DO NOT LEAVE ME A REVIEW SAYING ONLY "update soon" or "update now!" I HAVE A LIFE -- A VERY BUSY AND AT SOME OCCASIONS PAINFUL LIFE! I WRITE FOR ME, NOT TO OBEY THE WHIMS OF SOMEONE WHO CAN'T EVEN PERSONALIZE A REVIEW. AT LEAST SIGN YOUR NAME OR SOMETHING! I WILL NO LONGER REPLY TO THOSE REVIEWS THAT ARE ONLY TELLING ME TO WORK FASTER. I love everyone else though:smooches:

**Ishy**: Aww, thanks for the review Ish! As always, a review from you makes me smile all day long. Glad you enjoyed the chapter.

**Shi**: Not even a hurricane can keep me from my writing... forever. It may cause delays though.

**Xmengirlzrule**: I'm sorry I don't own Marvel. When I take over the world, I'll make fandom real. Thanks for the review!

**CF**: They do! I like squeal-inducing. It makes me happy. :D Glad you liked, I always love hearing from you. Have a good day!

**Roguechere:** Remy (who always seems to dictate the story to me -- he's just one of those characters who steals the story like that) wants me to figure out who DID kiss who first. I'll figure it out... one day.

**Lacey:** Thanks for helping with Katrina. You're a wonderful person. And thank you for the lovely compliments on the chapters, I love hearing from you.

**Night Goddess:** I totally do that. I want to make this a movie some day, but I might have to genetically engineer clones to play the leads. Clark Gable is the MAN. After Bob Fosse and Fred Astair, of course.

**Dark Anime Fan:** I'm too tired to take offense. But life and love don't always need a point, you know. That's what makes them so fun.

**Silverbells:** Awww, thanks so much. For everything. :hugs: Touly and I love you -- even if he IS only a text document incapable of feelings.

Sorry for the short responses. I am SO tired right now.


	12. Eighteen

Toulouse and Royal   
Chapter Eleven 

"Eighteen"

In all the time they had known her, granted it was not as long as most, they had never heard the word "father" cross Marie's lips. They knew he was absent, and had been for years, because she had moved in with her aunt after her mother's death. Sammie had always assumed that Marie's father, like her mother, had died when Marie was born. It was Remy, more practical in the ways of the world, who guessed that Marie's father had not been in contact with her mother since finding out she was pregnant.

Marie was silent again, turning her attention to the ring she spun on her finger. It was a nervous, worried gesture, and Remy wrapped his arms around her from behind, pulling her against his chest and kissing the top of her head. The fiddling ceased, so he loosened his hold to a soft embrace, allowing the silent support she needed to continue. "Ah never knew him," she pointed the comment at Sammie, quelling any romantic notions her friend may have harbored. "Ah don't even know his name."

"What happened to him?" Sammie asked, hesitating between words at Remy's glare; he was far too overprotective of Marie's feelings.

Marie interlaced her fingers through Remy's, almost subconsciously, and smiled wanly. "My mom was seventeen, just a senior in high school, when she went to New Orleans for a week with her best friend." She paused as they all grinned, noting the slight parallel. That was where the similarities in their lives ended. "Apparently they both got a bit tipsy at a karaoke bar and woke up the next morning next to a local."

She shrugged and fell silent, which was broken by Sammie's exasperated "And then?"

"That's it. She left at the end of the week, then died nine months later in New York City." They could see that, despite her nonchalant attitude towards the story, having never known either of her parents had left a deep impact on her life. Remy struggled for the words to comfort her, but came up empty. In a rare moment of seriousness, Sammie embraced both of them.

"Don't worry, Marie. We're your family."

-x-x-x-

It was Marie's eighteenth birthday, and her family had all gathered at Cosimo's to celebrate.

Sammie and Remy had planned the whole affair, leaving the actually inviting -- and work -- to Logan. It was a difficult task, yes, but one he was more than willing to undertake for his surrogate daughter figure. In just under a week he managed to bring together not only the poker group, but Henri and his wife, Merci and Céline, their young daughter. Also there, much to the delight and endless shock of Marie, was Irene and Hugh as well. Her family -- her entire family -- had gathered to be with her.

It was overwhelming for Marie, who had spent now eighteen years as an orphan, celebrating only with her aunt, uncle, and Scott, to suddenly be thrust into a party of over twenty, all of who loved her. "Happy birthday, Darlin,'" Logan boomed, sweeping her into a bone-crushing hug before releasing her to her aunt. Irene smiled, noting the subtle changes in her niece. Shy for most of her life, she was now easily socializing with whoever approached her. Also surprising was the way her eyes, whenever not focused on the person she was speaking to, tended to gravitate to the brown-haired man Irene remembered from the airport.

The party lasted until about eleven in the evening, with songs and drinks accumulating as the night wore on. Irene was actually drunk, something Marie had never thought she would see, and was currently dancing happily with Henri to an old Elvis song. As she sat on a stool, calmly sipping a Coke, she looked around at everyone. Remy was twirling his niece, and Sammie was dancing with Hugh. Everyone seemed perfectly happy.

So why was Marie so sad? It was her birthday, her family and closest friends were together in the city she loved... and yet she was depressed. _Maybe because my birthday is also the eighteenth anniversary that Mom died_, she thought to herself, resting her head in her hands. _And her grave is in New York_. Swallowing the last of her drink, she slipped out the back, grabbing her coat to ward of the breeze from the Gulf.

She wandered for a while, missing the mother she had never known, before stopping below a street lamp to get her bearings. It was, of course, Toulouse and Royal she had stopped on -- not that she had planned it. "Ah'm an adult now," she told the lamppost, leaning against it. "A woman. This is the day where my mother is supposed to tell me about the world." She picked a flower from the planter box suspended below the lantern and caressed the petals. "But Ah don't have a mother." Surprised, she felt tears prick her eyes. She had never cried over her mother -- not in the entire eighteen years.

"I thought I'd find you here." Remy joined her at the lamppost, staring into the distance in the same direction she faced. He stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her against his chest, and watched the night with her. It was a time before he spoke again, and his hand reached up to wipe her tears away. "What's the matter?"

She pulled away and turned on him, still crying. "There's no romantic story behind my father... It's not only that _Ah_ don't know his name. _She_ never did either. Don't you get it? They never loved each other."

Remy caught her chin in his hand, staying her movement and forcing her to meet his golden gaze. "_I_ love you."

They didn't return to the party. They went straight to the townhouse, ignoring the dogs that greeted them at the door and shutting them out of Remy's bedroom, where they usually slept. Tanner lay outside the door protectively, growling at Jax whenever he came near to scratch at it.

Remy smiled at Marie, brushing a lock of hair from her eyes before leaning down to whisper in her ear. "My name is Remy LeBeau, and I love you."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Heh heh heh. Hope you all enjoy!

Reviewer Responses:

**CF**: I wish I had someone to play the guitar for me... Sad now. Anyways, this chapter SHOULD make you squeal even more. Enjoy, but please don't squeal near dogs. They don't like it.

**XmenGirlzRule**: Awww, thanks so much! Both for supporting the story and my drive to take over the world. :Wink wink:

**Silverbells**: Well then, Touly loves you. :D Glad you like the simple conversations... my friends don't; they want action. But these are meant to be real people, and real people have small talk. I'll just email you the soundtrack because I only have a few songs so far... Not many people agree -- it's kinda a musical theatre thing. Just trust me when I say it's pretty intimate. Love hearing from you and I'll email you about the soundtrack soon!

**Ishy**: We do have a good thing working here! So here's another chapter to go with your review! Hope you enjoy!

**Roguechere**: Hate to break it to ya, but Marie's mom dying has been mentioned three or four times. It's all good though. Glad you enjoyed and thanks for the review!

**Amura**: For sure. Guitar players are hot -- especially Cajuns. Glad I made your day and I hope this chapter keeps you happy as well!

**Dark Anime Love**: Glad you enjoyed it and thanks for the review! I'm doing a play called _The Cripple of Inishmaan_.

**Lacey**: Sweet New Orleans you used the f-word. :hides in a corner: Low self-esteem makes me fear the f-word. Glad you enjoy the story though! Heh heh... :nervous laughter:

**Texasgrrl**: Ok, one word for you. PUNCTUATION. It's your friend. Thanks for the review and I'm glad you lied the chapter.

**WolvGambit Le Diable Blanc**: Thank you so much! Here's a new chapter!


	13. Home

Toulouse and Royal Chapter Twelve 

"Home"

It was a hot chocolate and whipped cream morning. A Belgian waffle with strawberries morning. A hot bath, good book, comfortable chair morning. A sleep in past your alarm, damn your schedule, lounge in bed type of morning. A morning to take in and enjoy the simpler joys life had to offer, like realizing just how good you look in your favorite jeans, or the dewdrop silk caress of a skirt hem against freshly shaven legs. It was a morning just like any other morning she had ever seen before, except that it felt... good. And, for the life of her just woken mind, Marie could not figure out why that was.

She turned over, snuggled oddly comfortable on top of a pillow that felt firmer than she was used to. It smelled good, like New Orleans and a slightly muskier smell, and she stretched languidly under the bed sheets. She sighed contentedly and wrapped her arms around the pillow, which sighed in return and moved his arm to accommodate her. Then it hit her, why this morning felt so good out of all the others she had lived, and she blushed before greeting her bedmate. "Morning Remy."

He smiled up at her, his eyes twinkling merrily at the sight of her reddened cheeks, and snaked an arm around her waist to pull her closer. "Mornin' chere." It was then, as he softly nuzzled her neck in the spot they had discovered made her wriggle and whimper for more, that she realized just how good of a morning it was going to be.

-x-x-x-

They emerged sometime around noon, Marie clothed in a too-large pair of Remy's pajamas as she tiptoed down the hall to change into her own clothes. She was almost there, just passing the central sitting room, when a pointed cough froze her where she stood. Turning ever so slowly, beet-red and beyond embarrassed, she was met with the scene of Logan and Sammie, sipping coffee while reading the paper at one of the wrought-iron tables. Sammie hid a grin behind her mug, and Logan lowered his reading glasses to look at her, smiling paternally. "Afternoon Darlin'. Your aunt and uncle'll be here soon." He returned to his paper and coffee, waiting until she had fled to her room to smile.

Remy joined them at the table only a few minutes later, a mug of coffee in one hand and a handful of tests to grade in the other. There was a companionable silence, and Remy was halfway through the third paper when he realized that the other two were staring at him. "Yes?" He had hardly opened his mouth when the doorbell chimed and the three dogs leapt up from their spots under the table to make a wild, barking mass at the front door.

Sammie rose, "That should be Irene and Hugh. I'll get it."

That left Logan and Remy in silence for a few seconds. "So," Logan began.

"Yep." Remy nodded.

Logan stood and stormed across the table, grabbing Remy roughly by the shirtfront and throwing him against the wall. "You're a bit old than she is, and far more experienced. I consider Marie like a daughter. You hurt her, and I won't hesitate to break you." He released the young man, straightening his clothes for him. "And it wouldn't just be me. A lot of us here in the French Quarter have adopted her, your brother and roommate included." Calmly, he returned to the table and gestured for Remy to sit as well; he did, nodding in a quick understanding.

Sammie, Irene and Hugh strolled in from the front to find the two men seated across one of the small tables, arguing over the Sudoku Puzzle in the Entertainment section.

-x-x-x-

"How are you enjoying your stay, Sugah?" Irene, Hugh and Marie were having lunch at a tiny, street side café, spending some time with just the three of them before the Drapers had to return to Mississippi. Hugh could only take the weekend off for her party, claming that the diner couldn't run itself, and their return flight left in a few hours. Less and less Marie noticed herself referring to Caldecott as "Mississippi," rather than the "home" it had been for seventeen -- eighteen -- years now. She leaned back into her chair, taking time to wave at some passing locals she knew while considering how to answer her aunt's question. Three weeks left in her "vacation," and she had more than once caught herself referring to the rear bedroom and the French Quarter as "home."

Irene gave her the time she needed, watching as her niece's gaze flicked from both adults to the street, then to a bar across the road where two men, one obviously the owner, waved when they spotted her. Her eyes twinkled in recognition, but she continued to examine her surroundings carefully. She and her husband shared a brief look, having seen this wide-eyed wonder once before, with a different girl and a different city, eighteen-and-a-half years ago, and knowing what it meant. Their little girl, no matter what she said, was not coming back to Mississippi when the next month was up. She was at home here, more so than she had ever been back in Caldecott County; there she had always seemed a bit gawky, a bit out of place. But here...

The waiter came over and, with a smile and a flourish, delivered their orders. Irene and Hugh seemed surprised, for the café was crowded and they had only just ordered a few minutes ago, but Marie was unfazed, grinning up at the man. "Thank you, Reg."

"Not a problem, Marie. Please enjoy your meal, Mr. and Mrs. Draper." With another friendly smile he hurried off to the next table, lapsing into a more formal tone to handle the five tourists there.

Irene looked quizzically down at her plate, then to her niece, hiding a smile behind her napkin. "Marie, that waiter knew our names."

Marie and Hugh were already eating, but Marie paused to answer, a casual explanation that told her aunt exactly how far gone her niece was. "That's Reg. He's Marc's, one of the poker players at Cosimo's, nephew." They ate in companionable silence for a few more minutes, watching the busy streets and interrupted, every so often, by some passerby pausing to check in with their niece and wish her a belated happy birthday. The Drapers shared a look saying yes, she had finally found where she belonged. They were not at all surprised when, twenty minutes later, Marie finally answered the original question. "Yes. Yes, I am enjoying my stay."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

My god, I am a horrible person. I am so _so_ sorry... I've been having a rough two months, so obviously updating was low on my priority list, but now I've rebounded like none other and am back into the swing of things. More Touly coming soon. Very soon. Sooner than soon. Right now even.

Love, Ori

Reviewer Responses:

**Lady Element**: I couldn't agree more. Thanks for the review!

**CF**: Didn't you know? I'm psychic. :D Anyways, glad you enjoyed the chapter and glad it made you squeal. ROMY always has that effect on me.

**Enchanted Light**: Thank you for the review.

**Silverbells**: They're some pretty good songs, and make for a great emotional roller coaster too. Thank you so much for the beautiful review. You always give me such beautiful reviews, I feel so unworthy. I'M NOT WORTHY! I'M NOT WORTHY! Anyway... yes, something will come of the whole father thing. I'm just not sure what yet. I'll let you know. So, yeah. Thanks for the review. Enjoy the chapter.

**Lacey**: Awww, thank you! And I have been in Marie's situation my entire life. My family is so hard to explain to people, with three sets of "parents" and twelve or so "siblings." Thanks for the review and the compliment, and I hope you enjoy the chapter!

**Roguechere**: Aren't we all sometimes? Anyway, thanks for the review. Enjoy the chapter!

**Dark Anime Love**: It's an obscure play, don't feel too bad. Thanks for the review!

Hands off, Ish. The Remy is MINE. :teehee: Just kidding, Ishy (not really) and thanks for the review!

**Keegan**: Wow, thank you! Your review gave me the sense of satisfaction one gets after eating something previously thought unable to be eaten, or after doing something previously considered impossible. And that's a good thing, by the way. ;-)

**Le Diable Blanc**: Thank you, thank you, a million times thank you! I love when people enjoy my work. It's all for you guys, anyway.

**Amura**: Good! Thanks so much for the review, and who said Logan isn't her real father? Other than me, I mean... whatever.

**Voided**: A new convert! Welcome to the soul-consuming world of the ROMY fandom! Thanks for the review! Please, enjoy the chapter. Pull up a seat.

**Musagirl15**: Thanks for the review!


	14. My Hero

Toulouse and Royal

Chapter Thirteen

"My Hero"

"So," Sammie began in her infectious lilt, "How was your evening last night?" Saturday nights in the townhouse had, it seemed, been irrevocably changed; gone was the era of tawdry horror movies between the friends, and last night had found Sammie locked out of ever her own apartment when she returned from her date. Not a total loss, she mused into her coffee, with a secret smile hidden beneath a sip of the warm liquid. He had been cute, sure, and polite... and other things she dared only recall to herself. The night had not, not at all, been a complete loss when she had no choice but to return to his apartment. More interesting to her, suddenly, when the thought of a blush threatened to draw the questioning towards herself, was the course of reasoning beyond her exile.

The girl herself, somehow more open than she had been only days before -- Sammie could hardly bring herself to use the word 'girl' in relation to Marie -- did not turn her eyes downcast, nor blush as might have been expected. Her bright grin, a touch of the vixen to it, was instead as much an answer as she would give.

Sammie glared. "Oh no, girlfriend." The coffee was placed safely down before she lunged her wiry frame across the space that separated them, and Marie's grin widened in comparison. "You don't get to play coy with me, Miss Marie. I did _not_ spend last night in the street-"

"I'm well aware of that."

Both girls sat silently for a brief laugh, one grinning smugly and the other scrambling to revise her earlier statement before the moment -- and the knowledge it could bring -- was lost forever. "I did _not_ spend last night in the arms of a wonderfully smelling man, suffering long periods of bliss and toe-curling ecstasy, so that I could be denied the gory details of your date with Remy." Her head cocked slightly to one side, and that mere threat of a blush brought the state of her face to Defcon-5, with an equal amount of heat rushing to other portions of her body as well. "Not that I wouldn't do it again in a heartbeat."

Marie swatted the arm, which had somehow found its way around her in a vice grip should she try and run, off and lay her head against the older woman's shoulder. Pleading green eyes, framed as they were with such already irresistible charm, looked up at Sammie until she fell silent. "If I tell you, do you promise to spend the night there tonight also?"

The request was not, on either end, to be denied.

-x-x-x-

Remy was not, as the giggling ladies in the living room had been joking, dead. Nor was he asleep, which had been the logical follow-up to the first undesirable conclusion. He was awake and, in an odd turn of events that had the gods of irony laughing down at him, blushing.

He was, for all intents and purposes, a grown man. Now in his mid-twenties, he had lived on his own for quite some time, caring for himself and the strays he accumulated (only some of them canine, and one of them a better cook than he). He was a teacher, guiding and bringing wisdom, of both maths and life to the thirteen-year olds in his charge. He was not, in any definition, still a child.

Unless his mother was brought into the equation.

"Yes, _Maman_," he kept his voice low, enjoying this time to himself and the woman who bore him kept free of interruptions from roommates. It was not often that he spent such quality time with his mother, though the two had always been close. "I know, _Maman_."

Her voice hadn't aged a day, despite her two grown boys. "Is this the same Marie you told me you were going to marry when you were seventeen?" She also, no matter how long the time had been in passing, forgot any detail of her younger son's life. Both recalled, in that sentence, the boy returning red-faced and laughing from the airport to recount his family that was now engaged to the girl of his dreams. "Or the one you told me about that you met in the bar? Or is this the girl from, where was it, Spring Break?" No one chastised like a mother, and Remy's blush was quickly beginning to resemble a sunburn of similar degree to her questioning. "Really, Remy-"

"I _know_, _Maman_-"

"This Marie," her voice was soft and cold, "is a very high number in a very long line of women you have taken to bed. When does it become enough, Remy? When does the only number that matters become 'One?'" Silence fell over the conversation that had done a total 180 from its earlier banter between mother and son, and neither seemed to want to be the first to break it.

Remy broke first. "It's different this time, _Maman_. I swear."

"It always is with you, Remy." A heavy sigh countered his protest, and once again her voice was the loving one he could always remember from his childhood. "When do I get to meet her?"

-x-x-x-

Sammie and Marie had laughed themselves into a dangerous place of cold coffee and smeared makeup. "So he really," Marie tried in vain to catch her breath between the words, only to let a tiny giggle escape with each mouthful of air she captured, "cried?" This only succeeded in renewing the laughter to its former glory.

"I know!" her friend crowed. "I mean, he seriously cried afterwards. He was _nineteen_, for the love of Pete!" Somewhere over the course of their Girl Time, that mystical hour that men could only wonder perplexed, they had migrated to the couches. "I was the one who was in pain, too!" As all good things must come to an end, they began the sobering process and slowly calmed down.

Marie, sighing herself back into sanity, clasped Sammie on the shoulder in a gesture of playful sympathy to an amusing grievance of years past. "It's amazing you ever found the courage to have sex again after that." Instead of, as it might have moments before, enciting another session of hyena-like mirth, the phrase brought upon a frightening calm in the previously hysterical Sammie.

"You're my hero, Marie."

The phrase was so odd, so out of place in the humor of the morning, that is struck a chord somewhere within her chest. "What," she met the gaze that was now directed at her. "What do you mean?"

A snort ruined the moment. "I've walked in on Remy in the shower once or twice and girl," a rake of the gaze up and down Marie's petite frame completed it. "You are my _hero_."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

To all who believed in this story enough to still be around to read this: you are all _my_ heroes.

Love, Naughty Sex Jokes, and Fond Wishes,

Orion

.

FUN FACT: As you may or may not have noticed, in the novelization of this fic, Remy is known by the name Valentin Regnier. Haha, I forgot to change his name before I uploaded the chapter. My bad.


	15. Sometimes, It Really Is That Easy

Toulouse and Royal

Chapter Fourteen

"Sometimes, It Really Is That Easy"

Remy was, once again, unable to sleep. The morning's conversation with his mother had left him shaken, eager to prove those haunting words of his past wrong... an effort fueled, no doubt, by his own shameful belief in them. He loved Marie, that much was not in question -- to him or anyone else. There was no doubt in his mind that he loved her more than anything, and that she was that rare and elusive 'One' his mother had made reference to. But what did that even mean? In this day and age, a time so strange and perverse that the divorce rate for a man his age was near 40 percent... what made the 'One' different from all those other numbers?

"This is dangerous thinking," he addressed the pensive reflection of himself in the bathroom mirror. Two months ago, the thoughts of love and marriage had not occurred to him; in a mentality that could only be summed up with Sammie's 'The Pokemon Syndrome' (for men who gotta catch them all) he had forsaken the idea of a 'One' and instead entertained himself with an equally appealing 'Two,' 'Seven,' 'Forty-Three,' and 'Nine.' There was, as the statistics were quick to prove, a zero percent divorce rate on men who didn't believe in monogamy.

There it was.

That nagging doubt in his mother's voice whenever she spoke the name 'Marie.' That anger that had fueled Logan's attack on him only last week, demanding intentions where they had previously been none. The silent, pleading looks Sammie sent him off with anytime he left the townhouse, and the quiet, sad stares that greeted him when he returned. Remy was not, in his history, a monogamous man.

"Hey," her voice was a bit scratchy from sleep, and her hair tousled from where she had been lying on it. Her eyes were hooded and dark, and she wore nothing but an old t-shirt of his. Seeing her there, leaning against the door in the limited light of the bathroom, she was the most beautiful woman in the world. "What's goin' on?"

"I-" He tried to remember exactly what it was that was keeping him awake, what demons from within had caused the lines of his forehead to wrinkle in doubt, but the only thought he could cling to long enough was that if he could go back in time, he would never have let her get on that plane so long ago. His lips, unable to recall why they had been so pursed in thought, formed themselves into a smile, and his hands insisted that they wrap around her waist. Similarly attached, he had no choice but to go along with them. "I love you."

-x-x-x-

There are only so many days that can be packed into a two-month visit.

Marie had spend the past forty-eight of those days pretending that it wasn't so, that time in this city could stand still for her and rush forward for the busy maelstrom of life. She told herself, whenever the joy she felt her subsided enough to allow dark thoughts to ruin her mood, that a two-month visit like this would actually translate to forever, and that she needn't spend anymore time worrying. But, despite telling herself that, she worried. "Logan," the two were out to lunch together, and he had been previously silent and watching a juggler across the square.

"Yes, Darlin'?"

For once she didn't feel like his little darling, his attention wavering between the street performers and the various friends or relations of his who passed by, but she was too deep in moping to even protest that. "What am Ah going to do?" Intended to be so vague, it drew his patience finally to her. "How am Ah ever going to leave?"

He laughed. "That's a simple one. Don't leave."

She lightly batted his arm, twisting her lips in petulant thought when all that did was cause his grin to crack even further across his stoic features. "Excuse me, Mr. College Professor." He nodded sagely in response to the title. "Why didn't Ah just think of that myself? You big jerk, it's not that simple."

"Why not?"

"Because!" she spluttered, aghast that he, in all his wisdom, could not see the sheer distress being caused to her. As though the overwhelming anxiety of how to tell the people she had come to love that she was leaving them in only twelve days, and the misery she would feel when gone, was as simple to cure as just 'not leaving.' "Because it- It's just _not_, okay?"

He shrugged and turned back to the bright colors of the street fair. "Sounds like it is, Darlin,' and that all this shock an' horror is just you makin' it hard." She opened her mouth to vehemently deny the claims, but he silenced her with a finger across her lips. "Hell, Marie. Look around... we got colleges here in N'awlins. We got libraries. What's this 'California' got that we ain't?"

Defeated, Marie slumped in her chair and glared at the man through a curtain of hair, her once wild curls now tamed into waves with the humidity in the air -- they were in the thick of summer, and the air felt just that: thick. "How the hell am Ah supposed to get into those colleges, hmm Logan?" She was sure to beat him with this one, and her glare regained a bit of the fire she usually had. "All the paperwork was due months ago."

Still ignoring her, he raised one eyebrow. "Lucky for you, Darlin,' I'm great with deadlines. I filed the paperwork for you back in June."

Marie wasn't sure whether to scream or hug the man senseless, so she decided it would be easier to just throw him to the ground in a hug.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

I know it's short, but it's leading up to a big one. Oh yes.

Well damn. These chapters will be coming more and more, seeing as I've got quite a bit of free time now... I lost my job this morning. I'm none too happy right now, but I've got a weekend locked alone in my house to do nothing but write.


	16. Update

Quick update.

I'm trying. I really am.

I can only cite life and its changes as the reason it's been two and a half years.

But I really am trying.

* * *

Long story short, my life ended. Everything. Just gone.

Then I found someone to help me put it back together.

We're married now. Have a kid. She's perfect.

* * *

But it's really hard to go back to where I used to be when I wrote this story.

I'm thinking about re-writing it and going from there.

I also lost all my notes to this story, so who knows where it's going from here!

I've missed you all.


	17. And So It Begins

Toulouse and Royal

Chapter Fifteen

"And So It Begins"

She was moved in within the week.

Her trip home to Mississippi lasted only as long as it took to pack her one room of belongings and make the necessary arrangements to have them shipped. Logan accompanied her under the pretense of being "a big strong man" to help pack; really, to mediate the news to her aunt and uncle. Hugh took the change of plans surprisingly well. He'd seen the look in his neice's eyes on their visit, recognized the long past glint of another woman in his family. The siren song of the Big Easy was particularly alluring to their lineage, it seemed, and he had come to terms with losing his sister to it already. Irene took some tears and promises before she was willing to let go, only settling when she realized a college in New Orleans was a hell of a lot closer than one in California.

"We'll miss you, you know," they told her as she boarded the plane.

More tears fell as she hugged them again. "I'll miss you, too. Thank you for everything."

Logan excused himself to give them some time for farewells; the plane didn't depart for another half hour.

It was Hugh who finally cracked, even with the speech he'd given his wife the night before about supporting her in her decisions. "I don't want you to go, kiddo." She smiled despite the situation at the nickname he hadn't called her since puberty.

"I'm right next door," she laid a hand on his arm. She couldn't bear one more hug without coming completely undone. "Just right across the river." They just shared each other's company until the flight attendent started fidgeting, casting glances from them to the door as if mentally urging them to hurry it up. Mustering all her courage, Marie gave her aunt and uncle a final hug before starting down the gateway towards the plane.

-x-x-x-

It was a softer, snivelling Marie who slid into the seat beside Logan, busying herself with getting the seat area around her organized Just So. "Remind me again why we fly?" she asked him, shuffling through the two magazines in the pocket ahead of her obsessively. "It's longer to get through security and on the plane than the flight itself!" The complimentary pillow was fluffed within an inch of its life. "Not to mention the layover in Houston. What's the point?"

His hands clenched uncomfortably on the armrests as the plane began to taxi down the runway. "I don't do boats." His voice was gruff and strained.

She raised an eyebrow and glanced pointedly at his white knuckles. "Don't do planes either, eh?"

Logan growled low in his throat, his eyes falling shut in a desperate attempt at regaining equilibrium. "Just keep talkin' to me and don't expect many answers."

She had turned her attentions back to the magazines, shredding the edges of the cover between worried hands. "I... I wish Remy had come."

Logan grunted; the plane was taking off.

"I just," she cast her eyes downward at her now confetti-covered lap, only a small intake of breath as the plane left ground to indicate her discomfort. "I wish he was here right now."

"Remy had to work," came the answer, just a tiny level too loud. _It's summer_, she thought. "Y'know, plannin' the semester and all," again, just a second too fast. Logan's voice had been going through all sorts of changes every time she mentioned Remy's name. Sammie's too. She wondered if they were uncomfortable with their now physical relationship, and made a note to ask Sammie about it when they got home.

_Home_.

She'd called it home.

She found herself doing that more and more with their townhouse. First it was an innocent "I think I'll stay home tonight" when Sammie invited her out. Then an "I'll race you home" to Remy when they took the larger dogs for a walk. And then she noticed it was a "I have to leave for Mississippi at the end of the month," and not an "I have to go home," and that was when she had made up her mind to stay. Remy, Logan, Sammie, the townhouse, New Orleans... she'd finally found a place to call home.

"Your stuff will be getting' in before we do," Logan finally spoke. His eyes hadn't opened, but his breathing had slowed enough that she could almost imagine he wasn't terrified. One eyelid twitched, and cracked open as he turned his head towards her. "Remind me again why we ain't driving?"

-x-x-x-

Sammie met them at the airport, although contrary to the bets they'd placed right somewhere over Texas her luggage, sent by truck, did not. "Well girl," Sammie greeted her with a hug that felt like she hadn't seen her in months, when she'd only left the day before. "You're officially one of us now."

"Lord help me," came the retort, but the smile she got in return was just a bit too small and a moment too delayed. _What was with everyone today?_

"Remy's still at the school," was all Sammie said in response, although Marie didn't quite feel like she'd asked a question.

Another grunt from Logan. "Hrrmph. Boy couldn't even meet us at the airport?" They were doing that Thing again, that almost something there she couldn't quite understand thing they'd been doing since her birthday. She once again made a note to ask Sammie about it later.

"Oh come on," she laughed and took each by the arm, dragging them away from whatever Thing had joined the conversation and towards the baggage claim. "We were gone maybe a day, it's not like he hasn't seen us recently. Besides," she reached for Logan's backpack when it came around the carousel, "He's-"

"Working," they both chorused, and then the Thing was back.


End file.
